Wallace was sputtering and trembling with nervous excitement. His was one of those temperaments which require action to relieve the stress of a stormy interview. He was brave enough, but he would always tremble in the presence of danger until the moment for striking arrived. He wanted to do something at once.
“Hadn't we better see a lawyer?” he asked. “Oughtn't we to look out that they don't take some of our pine? Oughtn't we—”
“You just leave all that to me,” replied Thorpe. “The first thing we want to do is to rustle some money.”
“And you can leave THAT to ME,” echoed Wallace. “I know a little of such things, and I have business connections who know more. You just get the camp running.”
“I'll start for Bay City to-night,” submitted Thorpe. “There ought to be a good lot of lumber-jacks lying around idle at this time of year; and it's a good place to outfit from because we can probably get freight rates direct by boat. We'll be a little late in starting, but we'll get in SOME logs this winter, anyway.”
PART III. THE BLAZING OF THE TRAIL
Chapter XXVI
A lumbering town after the drive is a fearful thing. Men just off the river draw a deep breath, and plunge into the wildest reactionary dissipation. In droves they invade the cities,—wild, picturesque, lawless. As long as the money lasts, they blow it in.